No Rest (For the Wicked and Weary)
by Rhianna-Aurora
Summary: Onboard the Jolly Roger, Emma's plagued by dreams and thoughts that make getting a decent night's rest impossible.


**A/N: **There really is no other summary for this. I wanted some Season 3 Jolly Roger smut, so I wrote it. Embrace it. ;)

_**No Rest (For the Wicked and Weary)**_

Emma hadn't slept much since they'd left Storybrooke. The hold of the ship was hot - stifling, really - and the hammocks were not exactly what dreams were made of. Most nights she'd just lie there, staring up at the wooden planks above her head, preoccupied with wondering how the hell things had gotten to this point.

If she _did _manage to doze off, her dreams were always troubling, and she never could sleep for more than an hour or so because of them. Some were about Henry - finding him, or, more often, _not_ being able to find him. Some were about Neal - those typically involved that damned green portal, and she was more than happy to not revisit _that _moment, ever again.

And then there were the _other _dreams, like the one she'd just woken from - and. _Well_.

She told herself that she only had _those _dreams because she hadn't properly dealt with everything that had happened; she hadn't fully processed Hook coming back, and so her mind turned it into ... something else entirely.

That's what she told herself, anyway, as she shifted uncomfortably in her hammock, trying to dispel the memory of the dream, trying not to dwell too long on things that didn't need to be dwelt on. Nope. Not gonna think about it. Definitely not thinking about _him_ or his fingers or his mouth or his ...

_Nope_.

Of course that only made her think about it all _more_. And it was _stupid_, and _frustrating_, and suddenly the hold was just entirely too small, too hot, too ... _everything_. She glanced around, making sure everyone else was asleep, before carefully climbing out of her hammock and padding barefoot across the floor, watching carefully for splintery pieces of wood as she walked. She knew they'd dropped anchor for the night, and with any luck, the ship's Captain would be sound asleep, like everyone else.

She really didn't want to think about the implications if he were _actually _awake right now. She'd been pretty much avoiding him, as best as someone could avoid another person when they were stuck together on a ship. Every time she happened to glance up and catch his eyes when they were all up on deck, he'd smirk that stupid little smirk of his, and make her feel like he _knew_.

Luckily the rope ladder to the hold was already down, so she didn't have to make extra noise as she climbed up to the deck, and she took a deep breath of the fresh ocean air as she moved over to the railing. They weren't moving, and the water was calm and glassy beneath the ship. It seemed to have a sort of glow here, in Neverland.

She thought maybe being up here, in the cool night air, with the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the ship, might help lull her into a sort of complacency, one that might help her sleep. It was late, and she _was _tired, but her mind was buzzing and her heart felt heavy in her chest, and it all combined to sort of make the whole idea of sleep seem like an elusive dream.

Her hands gripped the railing, and she sighed. It was about as peaceful a night as one could hope for, and she still could catch none of that tranquility for her own. She heard the sound of creaking wooden planks behind her, and she stilled. What were the odds that it was one of the others ... what were the odds that it was _anyone_ other than ...

"Well, then. What's your excuse, lass?"

_Motherfucker_.

She really didn't know what she'd expected, coming up on deck. There was a reason she'd forced herself to stay down in the hold, every other night before, no matter how hot, how uncomfortable, how fruitless trying to sleep actually was. The reason was him. She knew that if she came up here, the odds were that he'd be there too.

"No excuse," she muttered lamely, not turning around. "Couldn't sleep."

God, she should've stayed put. She didn't want to _talk _to him, all perceptive and able to read her like a book and tell things about her that nobody else had ever even gotten _close _to puzzling out. She didn't want to _talk _to him, she certainly didn't want to _look _at him. She didn't want to be stuck on this damned ship with him. She didn't want to think about the fact that he was literally their only hope of finding Henry.

_Her _only hope.

"What's the matter, Swan?" he said then, that teasing lilt in his voice, the one that sort of made her want to punch him in the face. Or kiss him. She was never quite sure which urge was stronger, and that in and of itself was a _problem_. "Are my crew quarters not up to your rarified standards?"

Emma rolled her eyes, keeping her eyes out on the darkened horizon, not trusting herself to look back at him. "What's your excuse?" she retorted, deciding not to answer his questions directly. It was easier that way.

He moved to stand beside her at the railing, and it was harder still not to look over at him. "I heard _something _rustling about on my deck," he said easily, leaning back against the railing, arms crossed over his chest. (Okay, so she looked a _little_.) "What sort of Captain would I be if I didn't come to investigate?"

She sighed. "You couldn't sleep either," she said, a statement, not a question, and she didn't know why she'd said it all. This - thing they had, this connection, it unsettled her, it made her feel uneasy whenever he was around, like there was something about the messed up parts of him that fit with the messed up parts of her so well.

And she did _not _need to be thinking about their parts fitting together right now. Or _ever_. At all. She was glad it was dark, because she could feel her cheeks burning now as she looked down at her hands.

"Did you want to talk about it?"

His words surprised her, and her head shot up, her eyes meeting his, even though she'd been trying so hard to avoid doing just that. There was no hint of insincerity to be found in his too-blue gaze, and she shifted her weight, a little uncomfortably. She _did _want to talk about it, that was the thing, and she knew he'd probably be the only one who would truly understand, but ...

"Nope," she answered him then, shaking her head.

"Do you want me to leave you be, then?"

"No," she said, before her mind could tell her mouth to _shut the fuck up_. He looked at her knowingly, an infuriating smirk quirking the corners of his lips then. "_What_?" she asked him, not sure she liked that expression on his face at all.

"Perhaps," he said, leaning a little closer to her then and lowering his voice, "it's the same _nothing_ keeping us both from sleeping."

Emma's brows shot up, looking at him, not sure if she was aghast or slightly impressed by the way he cut so quickly to the chase. "Hook," she deadpanned.

"Swan," he retorted in kind, and he still hadn't leaned back, he was still entirely too close for comfort, especially considering the dream she'd had that had led her up here in the first place. He grinned at her, and there it was, that urge to punch him. Or kiss him.

_Goddamnit_.

"You didn't say no," he pointed out, still grinning at her.

"No to _what_?" Emma asked, exasperated.

He gave her a pointed look, one eyebrow cocked. "I'll tell you why I'm still ... _awake_," he said leadingly, "if you do the same."

"I'm awake because the hold of your ship isn't fit for the rodents that infest it," Emma hissed at him, refusing to rise to his baiting of her right now.

"Oi! Watch your tone when you talk about the Jolly, or you're like to find yourself tossed overboard."

Emma arched a brow at him. "Was that a threat?"

"Did it sound like one?" he snapped back.

"It sounded like you were planning on throwing me over this railing here."

His grin turned devilish then and Emma inhaled sharply. "Oh, no, it wouldn't be me," he told her, inspecting his hook then as if it had suddenly just become fascinating. "No, see, it just so happens that freak accidents tend to happen to people who speak ill of my ship."

"Still sounds like a threat to me," Emma said boredly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I think I could come up with a more enjoyable punishment than throwing you off my ship," he said then, and the smirk was back on his lips as he looked up at her once more.

"Oh, like what?" Emma asked, even though she hadn't meant to, and she _really didn't want to know_. But she didn't want to talk any more, and she certainly wasn't going to be getting any sleep at this rate so ...

And then he was leaning in again, and now he was so close that Emma could feel his breath, dancing across her face. _Back up, back up, move back, go back to the hold, right now!_ Her mind was practically screaming at her, and yet she couldn't seem to make her feet cooperate. She didn't really _want _her feet to cooperate, all truth be told. Her eyes flickered up to his, and she caught the hungry glint there in his gaze, the way he was looking at her lips now.

She wanted to blame the lack of sleep, or the stupid dreams she kept having, or ... just anything, really ... but she knew better. She was tired of talking, tired of worrying, tired of nothing ever changing, of them being no closer to figuring anything out than they were than they'd first set out on this journey.

She was tired of feeling useless and alone. Even with her parents _constantly _around, she still felt acutely lonely, and the only time she ever felt even remotely like that wasn't the case was when she was with _him_, and it was stupid and it made no sense, but goddamnit, when was the last time _anything_ in her whole damn life had made any sense?

She wasn't sure who moved first (_it was definitely her_), but in the next instant, her lips were crashed against his - or his against hers - and there was a rush of something Emma didn't even have a name for surging through her. It felt like fire, it felt like ice, it felt like soaring and falling, like running away and coming home, all at once.

She felt, rather than heard, him growl low in his throat as he pulled her closer, his tongue sweeping out along her bottom lip. Her own lips parted beneath his, her tongue moving to meet his, the taste of sea and rum and whatever it was that made Hook _Hook_, assailing her senses completely then. It felt like it had when she'd dreamed about it, only magnified almost a million times.

To her surprise, and slight chagrin, he pulled back first, his eyes alight with confusion and desire as he looked at her. "_Emma_," he breathed raggedly, "what are you doing?" It was then, looking at the expression on his face, that it dawned on her - he might've been waiting, all this time, for her to do just that.

And if that was the case, what the hell was she going to do about it?

Nothing. The answer was _nothing_, not right now.

She shook her head, once again, opting not to answer his question. Her hands went to either side of his face and pulled him back to her. "We're not talking about this," she muttered against his lips then.

"Whatever you say, lass," he groaned, his hand moving to tangle in her hair then. She could feel the cool metal of his hook against the small of her back, just under the hem of her sweater, and the sensation sent shivers through her.

She wasn't going to overthink this. She needed this - they _both _needed this. There was going to be no peace for her onboard this ship until she got ... whatever this was ... out of her system, and there was no law that said she couldn't ... that _they _couldn't. It didn't have to mean anything.

It had been a very long time since it had actually meant anything to her at all.

His lips were trailing along her jaw then, and his fingers tugging lightly at her hair to tip her head back. A soft gasp escaped her, and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from making another sound. He trailed his lips back to hers, smirking at her as he nipped at her bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth.

"Best keep quiet," he hissed against her lips, his hand slipping from her hair and trailing down her side, until he was cupping her backside and hauling her flush against him. "Or you're like to wake the whole bloody ship."

"Then let's go back to your cabin," Emma whispered, and she wondered again where this person, saying these things to him, was coming from. She always felt a little bolder around him, but this was a whole new level ... and it could mean so many different things. Things she wasn't thinking about now.

He went completely still against her for half a heartbeat, and Emma wondered if she'd said or done something wrong, but then his hand tightened against her as he looked at her, his expression earnest, desperate - like the last gasp of a dying man. "You'd better be absolutely sure, _Emma_," he breathed out.

She let out the breath she'd been holding, her eyes meeting his once more. "I am," she replied.

And then he was kissing her again, more fiercely than before, teeth and lips and tongues seemingly at war with one another. He started backing her up, in the direction of his cabin, his lips never leaving hers, his hand still holding her tight against him, the coolness of his hook still pressed against the small of her back.

He had her pressed against the door once they were inside his quarters, his teeth grazing along the column of her throat. His hook looped through one of her beltloops as he pulled her hips against his, leaving no room for her to wonder whether or not he wanted her too. "If you're fond of these trousers," he growled then, "I'd suggest removing them before_ I _have to."

"Patience is a virtue," Emma retorted lowly, giving him a little shove back.

"Bloody hell, woman," he groaned, leaning in once more, his lips going right for the pulsepoint in her neck, causing her to gasp. "I'm not jesting when I say," he breathed hotly against her ear, "I will _tear _them off of you."

Emma shivered a little at his words, before her fingers delved into his hair, and she gave it a good yank, pulling his lips away from her neck. Her other hand rested on his chest, and she gave him a shove backward. "We'll see about that," she said, taking a step forward, then another, and another, until she had him to where the backs of his legs were at the edge of his bed.

It was then that she leaned in again, once again claiming his lips for her own, not letting herself dwell too long on the fact that he he tasted like sin and heaven, all at once, that kissing him felt like the only thing she was ever meant to be doing. She only focused on the now, the want and need to that was quickly going to consume her if it wasn't dealt with, _soon_.

Her fingers found the hem of his shirt - he'd obviously taken his vest off earlier in the evening and that was fine with Emma, one less thing to get in her way. She pulled back, her breathing ragged, just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, and toss it aside. Her eyes took in the sight of him and she inhaled sharply as her gaze drifted lower, his want for her evident. Her fingertips ghosted over the bulge as she tugged at the laces on his trousers, and she heard him suck in a breath. "_Emma_," he growled, his hand curling around the back of her neck as he kissed her again.

Emma parted her lips beneath his, and suddenly, it was easy to forget about everything else. In this moment, for right now, it was all gone, and this was all that remained. Her tongue slid against his, a soft sigh escaping her, muffled by his mouth against hers. She gave a little gasp, feeling the cool metal of his hook against the small of her back, under the hem of her sweater once more, and he pulled back again, his eyes drifting, almost disdainfully, down to the hook. "Just give me a tick," he mumbled against her lips then, pulling away from her.

Emma watched him, confusion furrowing her brow, until she saw that he was reaching to remove the apparatus that held his hook in place. She reached out then, her hand closing around his wrist, just above it. "Leave it," she whispered, shaking her head and looking at him, her eyes meeting his.

His own expression was one of confusion as he raised his eyes back to her face. She could see his eyes searching hers, looking for some sign that she didn't mean it. "_Leave it_," she said again, leaning in and pressing her lips against his once more.

"Bloody hell, Emma," he breathed out, his tone almost incredulous as his lips brushed against hers, softly at first, but growing ever more insistent. There was something else in the way he kissed her now, something that made a part of her heart clench up in fear, but she pushed it away, letting herself get lost in the sensation of his lips against hers once again. He pulled away, his eyes locking with hers, and her heart did a little flip in her chest.

"Shh," Emma whispered again, getting the sense that he was about to say something else, something that would make this moment _more_, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that, so she kissed him again, and as she did, she pushed him backward, onto his bed.

His eyes widened then, looking up at her as she moved over him, straddling his hips. She arched a brow at him then, before reaching for the hem of her sweater, trying to ignore the way her hands were suddenly, inexplicably, shaking now.

This wasn't supposed to _mean _anything, and yet there was a little voice in the back of her head telling her that she was a fool if she really believed that.

She tossed the her sweater aside, looking down at him once more, and smirked a little at the expression on his face then. "What's the matter?" she breathed out then, "has nobody ever gotten the Captain on _his_ back before?" She lowered herself a bit, grinding against him teasingly, causing them both to gasp.

"_Emma_," Hook hissed out, teeth gritted. His eyes raked over her form, hungrily, his hook pressed against the small of her back, his hand, rough and callused against her skin, roaming over her curves, brushing over her breasts through the lace of her bra. He pinched at her nipple, rolling the little bud between his thumb and forefinger through the fabric, causing her to cry out softly. "Is that what you want?" he growled, and without warning, he had moved and was sitting, holding her firmly in his lap.

His mouth was against hers then, hot and hungry and beseeching, his fingers moving to the button on her jeans then. "Tell me," he rasped out against her lips, before trailing his mouth along her jawline, teeth nipping at her earlobe. "Tell me you want it."

"Hook," Emma gasped, her head falling back, eyes clenching shut. "I - yes, _God_, yes ... I want you."_ It_. She'd meant to say _it_. The _act_, the moment of release and escape. She wanted _it_. Not _him_.

At least, that's what she was going to tell herself.

"Then take these blasted things _off_," he demanded, his voice hoarse as he tugged at the waistband of her jeans.

Emma groaned, moving away from him just enough to shuck her jeans off and kick the aside without much of a care where they landed right now.

"Get back here," he demanded then, his tone rough, his gaze darkened as his eyes swept over her nearly bare form now. She felt like she should be more uncomfortable under his intense stare, she'd never much liked it when the lights were on. But here, in the dim lantern-lit solitude of his cabin, she felt something akin to _strength_ coming from the way he was looking at her. He _wanted _her, and deep down, she knew it was about a lot more than the way she looked.

Which was more than she could say about anyone else she'd been with in recent memory.

"You don't say _please_, Captain?" Emma asked, eyes widening a little as she curled one hand around one of the bedposts, looking at him with a challenging glint in her eyes, her other hand moving behind her to unhook the clasp of her bra.

She heard his sharp intake of breath then, saw the way his jaw clenched. "Emma, get back here, _now_," he growled lowly, and there was a glint in his eyes that she might have taken for dangerous if she didn't know him like she did.

"And if I _don't_?" she couldn't help baiting him, as she let her bra slip from her arms and fall to the floor then.

His growl then was feral, and he moved faster than a man had a right to move, his arm going around her waist as he dragged her down to the bed, pressing her into the mattress - not too gently, not too roughly - with his weight pinning her beneath him, her hands above her head, held in place by his hook arm. "Then I guess I'll just have to come and _take you_," he breathed lowly, the smallest hint of a smirk playing over his lips then, as he leaned in, letting his lips brush lightly along the curve of her jaw.

Emma inhaled sharply, the blue flame of his eyes burning her all the way through to her core. She wriggled slightly beneath him, and he pressed her hands a little bit more firmly against the mattress, his teeth nipping again at her earlobe. "You want this?" he whispered, and his tone was softer then, for just that second.

Emma turned her head, catching his lips with hers. "_Yes_," she breathed out, pressing her wrists back against his, wanting to touch him. As if he sensed her desire, he moved his arm, and she immediately let her hands trail over whatever parts of him she could reach, her fingers finally reaching for the laces on his trousers.

He took hold of her hand then, stopping her from her task and bringing her fingers to his lips, letting his teeth graze over her fingertips, his eyes locked with hers. It reminded her acutely of another moment they'd shared, not all that long ago. "Patience is a virtue," he mocked her earlier words to him with a smirk and a glint in those incredible eyes of his.

Emma sucked in a breath as he leaned in and captured her lips once more, before he let his mouth trail lower, down the column of her throat, along her collarbone, teeth and tongue teasing the skin there. He braced himself above her with his hook arm, keeping the sharp metal well away from her skin, as his hand moved to cup one of her breasts, thumb brushing over her nipple until it was taut, ready for his lips to devour.

Her eyes clenched shut then, a soft cry escaping her throat as she arched against his lips. His tongue flicked over her sensitive skin, and she let one hand delve into his thick hair, needing something, _anything_ to hold onto.

Emma didn't know what she had expected from him, honestly, maybe she'd thought it would be a quick thing, over and done with, but he seemed to have other ideas for her. He took his time, his mouth trailing over every inch of her skin that he could, leaving Emma breathless and more than ready for him, and still he persisted. She had goosebumps all along her skin, everywhere he touched felt like liquid fire. She'd wanted him badly before, but now she felt as though she might actually go mad if he didn't stop tormenting her soon.

"_Hook_," she gasped out, and his gaze flicked to hers. He smirked, that cocky smirk of his, the one that always elicited such a strong reaction from her, as he brushed his lips just above the waistband of her underwear then, tongue flickering out along her skin, and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from shouting.

His mouth moved over her, tongue caressing that sensitive bundle of nerves through the lace fabric that was the only thing left between them at this point, and her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging a little more sharply than she had intended to. He groaned against her, the sound reverberating throughout her and pushing her just that much closer. She felt cool metal against her hip then, and realized he was tugging at her underwear with the curve of his hook. She closed her eyes once more, swallowing thickly as she heard the fabric rip, not even caring at this point, and especially not when she felt his mouth on her once more, this time without _anything _between them.

She felt the tip of his hook graze lightly down her thigh, not enough to do anything more than send shivers down her spine as he worked his mouth against her, making her whimper and mewl softly, her body arcing up, pressing closer to him, wanting _more_ of everything that he was doing. And then his fingers were _there_, curling inside her, working in tandem with his mouth, and it was enough to make her see stars. Her inner muscles squeezed around his fingers and she _felt _and heard him groan out once more, his tongue laving against her until he'd wrung every bit of pleasure from her, until she thought there was no way she could withstand anything more.

"_Emma_," he growled, raising his head then, trailing his lips back upward along her body, stopping to regale her breasts with more attention, his fingers still sliding along her slick folds.

Her eyes opened, meeting his gaze then, the sight of him looking down at her enough to make her breath hitch in her throat once more. "Now?" she breathed out, her hands already reaching once more for the laces on his trousers, her fingers brushing over him as she did so. She pushed the pants down his hips, biting her lip as she grasped him.

He groaned loudly, and his forehead fell against her shoulder, his breath hot against her neck as she slowly moved her hand along his length, his hips rocking into her hand. "Hook," she breathed out, then, out of nowhere, "_Killian_."

She hadn't meant to say it, it had slipped out, and part of her wondered if maybe he had missed it, or maybe he thought she'd said something else. His head snapped up then, his eyes searching hers. And she knew there was no taking it back now. Lightning fast, his hand moved, pulling her own hand away from him. He moved then, positioning himself at her center. "Again," he breathed out, eyes searching hers.

She shouldn't. She shouldn't have said it in the first place, but in the moment, it had fallen from her lips, in the moment, it had felt right. It still felt right. No matter what she tried to tell herself, tonight changed things. What things, she didn't know, and to what extent ... well, she didn't know that either. But things would be _different_ now, and it was too late to pretend that everything was going to be the same.

She closed her eyes, but his hand at her hip, pressing gently into her skin, caught her attention. "Look at me, Emma," he breathed, fingers pressing just slightly harder into her skin then.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Part of her thought she'd protest, part of her thought she'd balk and push him away and want to pretend it never happened, but as soon as her eyes met his, his expression so bemused, so ... _sincere _... it all fell away, and once again, she was left with just the moment.

And in the moment, it was right. Tomorrow it might be all wrong, but not tonight.

"_Killian_," she whispered again, leaning up, catching his lips with hers. He tasted of the sea, and of her, and as soon as her lips brushed over his, she felt him plunge forward, filling her and making her gasp out.

"_Emma_," he rasped, his hand at her hip still, as he thrust into her, his movements almost desperate, almost needy. She drew her knees up, pulling him in deeper, and he buried his face at the crook of her neck. She could feel his breath against her skin, hot and shallow, his lips occasionally brushing along the column of her throat as he moved, her own hips rocking back against his in tandem.

It was as though they'd always been meant to do this, that was how _right _it felt. And when she came undone again, he had to cover her lips with his own, and kiss her breathless, to keep her cry from becoming too loud. He followed her over the edge not soon after, and collapsed against her.

Emma's heart was hammering in her chest, and she wasn't sure she could remember how to breathe properly. She could feel Hoo - _Killian's _heart thudding against her chest, almost in time with her own. Her hand trailed lightly over his back, though she didn't know why.

Emma Swan didn't _do_ afterglow. She didn't bask, or lie there in the arms of whoever it was she'd just gotten her rocks off with. She certainly didn't feel confused about things afterward.

"You could let me up, you know," she said quietly, after a few moments. He was still sprawled out on top of her, and he seemed to be in no great hurry to move.

"I could," he mumbled against her neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell marvelous, do you know that?"

Emma's brow furrowed as she looked down at the top of his head. "Thanks?" she said, not really sure what to say to that. She'd never felt so at a loss in the aftermath ... this was supposed to be simple, but she was suddenly acutely aware that things with Hook were never going to be simple.

She really ought to have known. "I should go ... sleep," she finally managed to say then.

"So sleep," Hook said, and he finally rolled off of her, onto his back. He turned his head to look at her. "If you're worried about your virtue, I'd venture that it's safe to say you needn't." He gave her a cheeky smirk, eyes flickering over her, and Emma had to fight back her own grin.

"I can't sleep here," Emma said, shaking her head, feeling a little bubble of panic rise up in her throat ... she hadn't _spent the night_ with anyone since ... Neal.

"You can," he said, and his tone was light, as though it were no big deal, but she could see the flicker behind his eyes.

This was as new to him as it was to her.

"And what about when everyone else wakes up and wonders where Emma's gone?" she asked dryly.

He silenced her then by kissing her once more, and it set her to reeling just as much as it had before. "Shut up, and go to sleep, _Swan_," he breathed against her lips, "or I'll simply have to do something that will make it _impossible _for you to walk for awhile." He arched a brow at her, letting his hand slide down along her side to rest at the curve of her hip.

"But ... "

"_Emma_," he growled, cutting her off again, silencing her with a kiss, only this time, it was meant to ignite as much as it was meant to shut her up, and it worked.

Oh, it _worked_.

oXo

When Emma opened her eyes, the first thing that registered was that it was - bright. _Too _bright for the hold of the ship.

The second thing that registered was that she wasn't _in_ the hold of the ship.

Her eyes flew open all the way then, and she bolted upright, the satin and velvet sheets of the ... Captain's bed ... falling away from her as she did.

_Oh God_. Goddamnit, she should have known better. How the fuck was she going to explain what she was doing, coming out of Hook's cabin, first thing in the morning? No matter what excuse she came up with, it sounded stupid in her head, not at all believable.

They were going to know. And then they were going to ask questions, and goddamnit, she didn't have any answers for them!

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_, why had she ever thought this was a good idea? She scrambled about the cabin, looking for her discarded clothing. She found everything except her underwear, and with no small amount of chagrin, she remembered him tearing them off of her last night when he'd ...

_Nope_.

Not thinking about it. It was bad enough that he was going to gloat and smirk and make her life a living hell from here on out ... She shook her head and set about getting herself dressed, running her fingers through her hair to try and make it look somewhat reasonable, and not like she'd spent the better part of the night rolling around in bed with Captain fucking Hook.

"Where's Emma? I haven't seen her since last night."

She heard Mary Margaret's voice, first thing as she stepped out onto the deck. Part of her wanted to turn around and hide out and hope maybe if she hid long enough, they'd all forget "Emma" had ever existed.

"I haven't seen her either." Perfect. David was there too. This was going to be fucking fantastic.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry overmuch." Emma groaned inwardly, hearing Hook's voice next. God only knew what he was going to tell them. God, she'd been a fucking moron, how the hell could she have ever even thought ... "Swan was up at the bloody crack of dawn, so I put her to work, I couldn't well have her mucking about getting in my way, now could I?"

Her brow furrowed then. Was he ... making an _excuse _for her? She took a few tentative steps out on deck, the wooden planks creaking beneath her feet and causing Mary Margaret, David, and Hook to all turn at the sound. "Ah, there she is now ... empty-handed I see," Hook said, giving her a look that pointedly said to just go along with it. "Couldn't you find it, lass?"

Emma shook her head, her throat feeling a little dry. "Uh ... n-no," she stammered, feeling stupid and wishing she was better at coming up with things on the fly. "You, ah ... you said it was on your desk, right?"

Hook sighed exasperatedly, a very good show of it for someone who was as crappy an actor as he was. "No, I said it was in the _trunk_." He rolled his eyes in David's direction. "Oi, take over here for a tick, would you, mate?" he said then, gesturing for David to move to the helm.

"Not your mate," David said through gritted teeth, nevertheless moving to the ship's steering wheel. Emma wasn't fooled by his bravado, she could tell he was _thrilled_ at the chance to steer the Jolly.

"Whatever," Hook said dryly. "Just hold her nice and steady, we're going straight on, so no need for anything drastic. I'll only be a moment, apparently I have to do _everything_ myself around here. Simple task. Find me a map, it's in my trunk, and the lass gets lost."

He was being overly dramatic, and Emma wondered that her parents weren't catching onto the act, not that she wasn't grateful that they were seemingly oblivious to it all right now.

He caught her by the wrist as he approached. "Let me show you," he said, loudly, for the benefit of the others, before leading her back out of sight.

"What are you doing?" she whispered once they were away from prying eyes.

"I should think it was obvious, Emma," Hook retorted drolly. "Saving your honor - and my nose, if your father ever gets wind of what transpired here last night." He gave her a look, a smirk forming on his lips.

_Urge to punch, rising._

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" she hissed then.

"You were _sleeping_," he said, as though it were perfectly obvious.

It was then, for some reason, that it dawned on Emma.

She'd slept.

She'd actually _slept_. And for more than just an hour or so. And she hadn't had _any _dreams, good, bad, or otherwise.

Emma sighed a little then, looking back at him, searching his face for any sign of facetiousness or insincerity, and finding none. Her expression softened, and she realized that he still had his hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Thank you," she said softly then, and she wasn't entirely sure what she was thanking him for, but she was sure he'd figure it out, either way.

He seemed to know her better than she knew her, sometimes.

He gave her a smile then, a real one, not that damned smirk, and Emma felt her heartbeat quicken just that little bit. "My door's always open, love," he told her softly, pressing his lips to her forehead.

And somehow, she knew that was more than an invitation.

It was a promise.

And maybe she didn't have it all figured out just yet. Maybe she didn't have a label for whatever it was that was happening here, with them.

But he gave her something to sleep to.

And for now ... for now ... it was _enough_.


End file.
